For my loins are filled with a loathsome disease: and there is no soundness in my flesh.
and said unto the king, Let the king live for ever: why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire?
By the great force of my disease is my garment changed: it bindeth me about as the collar of my coat.
My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.
For my days are consumed like smoke, and my bones are burned as a hearth.
An evil disease, say they, cleaveth fast unto him: and now that he lieth he shall rise up no more.
And immediately the angel of the Lord smote him, because he gave not God the glory: and he was eaten of worms, and gave up the ghost.